Celebrities need fans: they're essential to their survival. If Zoella takes a selfie in the middle of a forest and there's no WiFi connection, does she still exist?
My dad also has an ENORMOUS record collection that he's gathered over 20 years. He was a total music buff and was so obsessed with his vinyl that the entire collection was part of an alphabetised filing system that was painstakingly hand written and recorded in a reference folder.
Wherefore art thou, then, Shoegazing? Well, despite innate protestations to the contrary, music requires pigeon holes. Music journos need pigeon holes as a convenient shorthand, record junkies crave pigeon holes, almost certainly more than pigeons do. So, what do we have?
I was delighted to hear in today's news that the Grammy Award winning singer Meghan Trainor had ordered video companies to pull her latest video Me Too down for an urgent re-edit after realising it had been photoshopped.
Having worked for in the music industry for 20 years with A-List artists, producers and record labels, some might ask, why Eurovision? Eurovision is encouraging an art that has for years brought people together and reaches out to every human being in the world. This is a heritage for us all!
It's the Eurovision Song Contest this Saturday - but a recent poll has found the UK would vote 'Leave' if there were a referendum on our participation, in some kind of musical Brexit. This must surely be one the most depressing results of recent times. One can only extrapolate that in these times of austerity, us Brits are cutting back on our sense of fun too.
It's that time of the year again - cherry blossoms, the year's first barbeques and dusting off the summer wardrobe. That heady combination of fruitiness, big flaming whoppers and costume changes culminates neatly this week at the Eurovision Song Contest.
My notion of home is not necessarily linked to a physical place or a nation to which I feel patriotic. If anything it has completely removed itself from the physical and now become nothing more and nothing less than a feeling.
Imagine seeing ZZ Top cycle past you at Center Parcs or the Stereophonics queuing behind you to see the lions at Cricket St. Thomas (near Chard)? With this in mind I have draw you a picture of how good it would be to see Keane on their band holiday. Enjoy.
It's not a great look to have such a 'sausage-fest' (a load of forty- and fifty-something blokes), especially now that increasing numbers of women are DJing, producing, promoting, managing, running labels and so on more than ever.
I find it fascinating and exciting that we get to see the narrative of Beyonce's personal anger and life explored in her art and identity. That she is prepared to step out from the glittering façade of her perfect life and be the author of who she wants to be.
I continue to look behind the veil of celebrity public life. I've always been fascinated by duos - they are all knowing looks and admiring glances on stage, but what are they like when they get home and kick their shoes off? Using Simon and Garfunkel as a test case I'm pretty sure that behind the scenes Art Garfunkel was a bit of a practical joker, I mean come on, look at the hair.
Why is standing in pride in your own identity and for the people in your community suddenly a controversy? Anyways, Beyoncé, keep doing us black women proud. As you say in Freedom, "Imma keep running cos a winner doesn't quit on themselves".
Posting a picture of Jaz Z bending over fully naked is the only way he could possibly be more exposed in this album. We learn of his weaknesses, pitfalls and insecurities. She alludes to his fear of love, his feeling of being undeserving of a woman like him.
This all stems, unfortunately, from the aforementioned online outlets, who yesterday ran the story in what I can only assume was a mad rush to ride the Beyoncé wave for as long as possible, even if it meant their traffic came at Rita's expense.
Let me break this down for you. Beyoncé's album is not an attack on anyone. It is a celebration of the strength, endurance and potential within black womanhood. The fact that you are mad/uncomfortable/agitated about it is evidence enough of how blind you are to the realities of being one.